Bad Girl

He never knows the sins for which I'm atoning. His one question gets all the information he needs.

"Have you been a bad girl?"

Though I'm sometimes unclear why, I always know somewhere deep inside myself that yes, I've been a very bad girl, and I desperately need to be punished for it.

We've met like this several times now, and the pain gets more and more intense with each visit. Tonight was the last night before he had to go out of town for a ten day business trip, and I was more than a little wary of the evening's possibilities. He showed up at the door around seven, and I didn't see him carrying anything. This is because, I later realized, I didn't look hard enough.

We sat on the couch for a while and chatted about upcoming events, recent shows, excellent movies - the usual things people chat about. Skeleton Key drifted around the room through the smoke from my clove, and I was beginning to feel relaxed. The atmosphere was light, and we were trading tasteless jokes.

Before I'd even realized that he moved, he grabbed a fist-full of my hair and drew my face close to his. I was startled, but not afraid. I knew what was coming and I loved it.

"Now Sarah," he started "have you been a bad girl since I last saw you?"

"Yes" I whispered and nodded a little.

"What did you do?" he asked

"I...I touched myself."

"How many times, Sarah?"

"I'm not sure..."

"You don't even know how many times?" he yelled.

".....no" I meekly admitted.

"And what happens to bad girls? Hm?"

"They...they get punished."

"How do they get punished, Sarah?"

"They get....spanked."

"Go to your room, find a corner, and wait for me there. Oh, and," he added "go ahead and lose that skirt."

Unzipping my plaid skirt as I walked, I went into my bedroom and realized, to my horror, that I had left no corner empty of furnishings. I stood in the middle of the room, spinning around in a slow pathetic circle, wondering what I was going to do.

He came in, saw my predicament and, with an exasperated sigh, closed the door behind him making a corner for me. I walked over to it and stood there awkwardly, trying very hard to be still. I heard him rustling around behind me, and my curiosity dared me to peek. I slowly turned my head, searching my peripheral vision for some sign of movement.

His hand was instantly on the back of my head pushing my face to the wall.

I slowly pushed my hips backward while sliding my hands down the wall. A slap and a rough "Lower!" had me bent over at the waist, still keeping my nose in the corner.

"Pull your panties down." he commands.

Tentatively I hooked my thumbs in sides of my white panties and slid them down to my knees. I could hear my own breathing echoed against the corner as I stood there, exposed and trembling with anticipation. A loud SLAP rang through the bedroom as his hand connected with my bare skin. I jumped, but held my position.

He was putting his full force behind each blow, and I couldn't help but think about the sting which must be developing in his palms. I gasped with each strike, and my head dropped from the corner. I could see my own feet shifting each time I was spanked, my white ruffled socks sliding easily along the carpet.

Just as I felt like I was going to collapse under the strength of his arm, he grabbed my hair and flung me to the floor.

"Get down on all fours." he instructed. I hurried to obey. He pressed lightly on my back and simply said "Stay."

Enjoying the respite from my punishment, I failed to pay attention to his actions as I caught my breath and felt the pain subside. A burning line across my upturned bottom woke me from my repose. I screamed and collapsed onto my forearms.

He continued to lash my thighs and ass while I shrieked and sobbed. Each time he struck me it felt as though he had stripped away the skin with flame. I scooted and writhed on the floor trying to escape, but I had nowhere to go. In desperation, I reached back towards him in a foolish attempt to protect myself.

His large hand wrapped securely around my wrist and held it fast.

"Open your hand..." he snarled. Hesitantly, I obeyed. My tender palm was given ten lashes with what I accurately assumed to be his belt. I cried out and pulled away, but I was no match for him. I only managed to hold my hand open for fear of him striking my knuckles and causing serious harm.

"Now you know better than to try to protect yourself, don't you?" he said sardonically. I could only whimper and nod. He released my wrist and I snatched my burning hand away. I stayed there in a pitiful mass on the floor, crying and fearful.

Reaching down, he brushed the hair from my face. I looked up to him as he wiped the tears from my cheeks.

"You ok?" he asked softly. I nodded and gave him a small smile. "Good" he replied.

Before I could react, he grabbed a firm hold on my ear and lifted me to my feet. He directed me forward a few steps before releasing me and walking in front of me to sit on the edge of my bed. He shot an icy glare and I found myself unable to meet his dark eyes.

"Come here" he growled and pointed between his feet. I shuffled over and fell to my knees between his legs, bending my waist over his thigh. Placing my hands flat on the floor, I held my torso up. A firm hand on the back of my neck swiftly brought my face to the floor.

"You know better than to support yourself" he sneered and brought a strong blow down on my already searing flesh. The painful sting introduced me to his new toy. I guessed correctly that it was a ruler; very appropriate for his schoolgirl fetish which I love helping him fulfill.

He continued to spank me with the ruler until I was writhing and screaming pleas for mercy. I could feel the sharp plastic edges cutting into my flesh as he methodically moved up and down the backs of my thighs and on my tense bottom.

Becoming more fierce with each strike, he reached a crescendo to his punishment and finally ceased. Easily lifting me to my feet, he instructed me to go back to my corner. I complied, walking slowly as I rubbed the tears from my face. I leaned against the walls gratefully and hardly noticed when he pushed me further by opening the door and leaving the room. I could hear him going through his belongings, then the distinctive sound of a lighter being sparked. I smelled his Camels and knew that I would have a while to collect myself.

All I could hear was my own snuffles and breathing. Just as I had decided to relax, he re-entered the room.

"Come in here where I can keep an eye on you." he said and, grabbing my ear, directed me to a corner by the front door. I tried to compose myself as I stood there listening to him smoke. His eyes burned into me and I shifted nervously from foot to foot.

At length, he spoke. "Are you thinking about how bad you've been?" he asked. I nodded meekly. "Are you thinking about how foolish you look standing there in the corner with your bare bottom all red?" I hung my head and sniffled. The couch squeaked as he stood, and I could hear him walking to the kitchen.

Straining to make out the familiar sounds of my house, I tried to envision his movements as he explored my small kitchen. His shadow crept slowly along the wall as he returned to stand behind me. A soothing coldness swept through my skin combined with the gentle warmth of his hand as he rubbed ice across my punished flesh. I sighed in delight and relaxed against the corner, gratefully holding my hips out backward with my legs spread.

This position made it very easy for him to slide the ice over my thighs and onto my clit. I danced and yelped at the searing cold. He rubbed the ice over the tender pink skin of my pussy as I squirmed in my corner and bounced on tip-toe. Running the ice between my legs and over the hot red skin of my bottom and then back to my aching clit, he continued this game until the ice was gone and my skin was soaked.

I sighed in relief as he wiped his hands on his jeans; he didn't seem to have more ice. A part of me refused to relax, held tense in anticipation. I knew he wasn't done with me yet, and I didn't have long to wait before my next surprise.

I knew instantly that he had picked it up in the kitchen - how could I not recognize my own spatula? The flat plastic surface felt like fire as he slapped the wet throbbing flesh of my ass and thighs. I screamed with abandon, no longer caring if my neighbors heard, unable to think about their possible reactions. Tears streamed down my cheeks and vanished into the carpet.

Unbidden, cries for mercy rasped out of me in between screams. All I could say was "Please!" and I was hardly aware of even that. Nothing could distract me from the intense pain I was feeling. I had never been spanked this much before, or this hard, and I quickly lost my grip on all other sensations.

I had no idea how long it went on, and I wasn't instantly aware of it when he stopped. Amazingly thankful that he had ceased, I collapsed sobbing against the corner.

"Have you had enough?" he whispered into my ear.

Unable to speak, I could only nod. Part of me felt that familiar failure of reaching my own limits, of being unable to stand any more pain, but relief overcame that guilt and I allowed myself to be proud that I had remained standing through the whole thing.

Gently, he stroked my hair and said "Ok, baby. Now just fifteen more. And I want you to count them for me. Now, do you have a hairbrush?"

I nodded meekly, glad to see the end of my punishment but happy that I would be pushed a little farther.

"Go get your hairbrush" he instructed.

Walking as quickly as my sore skin would allow, I fetched my hairbrush and returned to the bedroom. He had dragged a stout chair without armrests into the middle of the room and sat there, staring coldly. Pointing to the floor beside the chair, his eyes full of unrefutable authority, he instructed me on the details of my final punishment.

Hanging my head, I walked to my assigned spot and handed him the hairbrush. As I knelt on the floor the carpet felt rough on my knees. I lay my body over his lap and drew a sharp shuddering breath as I prepared for the last and worst of my punishment.

With the first blow I can feel the hard plastic being driven into my aching and wet skin. It's almost more than I can handle, but I manage to eek out "one". He continued his discipline slowly and deliberately, each blow of the hairbrush on my bottom feeling worse than the previous one. Somehow I managed to count aloud all fifteen, though sometimes I could barely be heard through my sobs. Fifteen was the hardest, but I screamed the number in triumph and elation.

Finally he asked "Sarah, do you want to rub your bottom?" I nodded and sat up, keeping my head down, then ran my hands over my stinging flesh. I heard that distinct unzipping sound as he freed his cock and took my hair in his hands, directing me towards it.

I licked my lips and hungrily took his cock in my mouth. I didn't have a long wait before he pulled my head back and shot his hot load all over my neck and chest. "Now Sarah," he asked "are you going to be a good girl while I'm gone?"

I could only nod and smile. Though I promised silently to behave in his absence, I knew that it would be much more fun to disobey - only a little!